In the lobby of an extravagant hotel in the seaside city of Doha, fans and residents of this otherwise sleepy coastal cocoon await the eight annual Doha Song Festival. Behind the scenes, and somewhere far down the long hallways of this sprawling complex, a press conference was being held for the Arab world's most famous artist. Kadhum El Saher stepped up onto the stage of the small press room and turned the festivities from a question and answer period to a fan love in for the man commonly recognized as a sex symbol throughout the region. I was at the festival to cover it for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC), in particular, a program called the Global Village. I wanted to do a story on the direction Arabic music is taking. I had begun noticing that Arabic songs were turning into a bad experiment of mixing together anything, with the hopes of being innovative, yet with the results of being imitative. I also wanted to focus on Iraqi artists, for another story, and see what they felt about their music contributing to the current political situation rocking the country. Not feeling the atmosphere of the press conference room, I set off on a mission to follow El Saher to ask a few questions and get some audio for my piece. Outside the elevator, and on the fifth floor, I finally caught up with him. Here is what he had to say.

bigHead: How would you define 'tarab'?
El Saher: The 'tarab' school of music is most commonly known as the classical school, that which we used to listen to in the past, that which we used to be happy with. In essence, it involves just a few instruments, mainly the strings like the 'qanun', 'oud', and violin. Then there's the 'nai', and usually they are accompanied by the 'riq' (tambourine) alone. Also, maybe the contre bass. They used to sing the most beautiful songs before. That would make us so happy. Now there are new instruments like the keyboards and new arrangements. These new songs have no identity. They are not western nor are they Arabic, they are trying to do something new, but it has no identity. So, that is my definition for 'tarab'. It carries with it certain musical elements where the theme of the song is clear, and the poem is sang in a way that doesn't need fast rhythms and percussions. Sometimes it is with no percussions at all, and yet you hear it and you are put into 'tarab.' Your inner self is impacted.

bigHead: Is 'tarab' disappearing?
El Saher: It will never disappear. There are some artists that have beautiful voices, and one is happy to hear them, but they are few, very few. If you compare the presence of 'tarab' to the rest of the musical scene, then maybe it's just two percent.

bigHead: What do you think are the reasons for this situation?
El Saher: Those who have beautiful voices are there, but maybe at times their sense of pride and dignity is too great for them to enter into this struggle that is predominant now. Nowadays, anyone can be at home with a keyboard and a computer and can make a song and release it. It's so easy, even if they don't have a voice, the technology that's available can add to the voice what we call definition; so it's easy now. For example, one can be an employer but come home and make a song and release it to the satellite channels, there are so many satellite channels, that they would release anything.

bigHead: We are here at the Doha Song Festival, and this festival prides itself on insisting that only acoustic instruments make their way to the stage, and that only artists with classical elements in their music are invited. How important is that?
El Saher: The festival is very important during these times, and it is being improved year after year. Especially when they insist on using Eastern instruments, i think it's a beautiful thing to have this kind of festival that maintains tradition during these times.

bigHead: Are you optimistic about the future?
El Saher: In these times, we say thank god, but for the future, we say god forbid. Seriously, god forbid from what's coming. There are many artists that I get to hear their voice, and it's beautiful, but they say 'I don't want to enter this realm.' They feel miserable. They aren't comfortable, because there is no specialization, no interest, in the 'tarab' school of singing. Only very few. There are no companies that support this tradition. All the companies in the world now support that which is exhibitionist, like nice bodies, and I don't know what. It's a means for entertainment only, nothing more nothing less. For the eyes only. But for 'tarab', there are no institutions that support this school, that's why there are many artists who sit at home and do nothing.

bigHead: What's the role of Iraqi musicians in preserving Iraqi identity?
El Saher: Don't worry about the Iraqi artist, as soon as Iraqi instruments like the 'khishba' and other southern elements hit the stage, the artist is there. And also with traditions like 'maqam'. 'chalghi', 'imraba'e', the Iraqi identity is still there.

bigHead: And what role do you play in helping those living in diaspora, in the West, particularly youth, in maintaining their Iraqi identity?
El Saher: It doesn't matter what kind of song you listen to as long as it's beautiful. I'm against the idea of making you listen to the Iraqi school of music or the Arabic school only. For me personally, any beautiful work in the world, no matter who sings it, no matter in what language, if it's beautiful and it makes me happy, then i'll listen and be interested.

bigHead: But through your music, Iraqis are taken on a voyage straight to Baghdad, and within the context which you paint, does that place an extra responsibility on your art?
El Saher: The works that i have presented for my country, Iraq, are many, although I consider them to be few in terms of my responsibility and duty. However, I'm happy to present them, the last one being "Iraq is Free." These works are for our country, our nation. It is being tortured. It is wounded. It has been destroyed, so I think that when I sing I do it, so that Iraqis don't leave it wounded. I think that's best done through planting the soul of humanity not that of reactionaries. I'm against doing something reactionary. I would rather do something that is humanitarian, that would entice the emotions, particularly the beautiful sense of love for the land we grew up in, and ultimately that would make people responsible. And through you living outside the Arab world, I urge you to love any country that shares its wealth with you. We need to respect its people and place, and respect it in our hearts. Any country in the world, as long as it gave me and my kids from its wealth and land then I respect it and value it, My advice to you now that you work for a Canadian broadcaster, and bravo on you, you are a serious man and you are someone that is trying to present something important, whether you contribute to Iraq or Canada, and remember that you have a big audience in Canada, and that's beautiful, and it makes me happy. So planting humanity in all of the world is a duty for all of us. It is a duty to our humanity to plant it in all the world, not only in our country. We don't want this prejudice. We want the contrary. We want love to spread throughout the world. We want to let people know that we as Iraqis have humanity for all of the world, not just for our country.

I have always been a fan of El Saher's music, since I was a child. In fact, I can say that through him, I started appreciating Arabic poetry, and learned a great deal about the intricacies of Arabic music. I have always been particularly moved by his songs about Iraq, and his delivery of the 'mawal'. I am equally critical of him as well. Yearly album releases, as dictated by his record company, have resulted in a plethora of songs that seem to do little more than act as track list fillers. I am most disappointed, however, in his advertising antics with a major cellular phone provider in Iraq. Not only does it belittle his stature as an artist, but it also puts his principles of loving Iraq in doubt. The company in question was a major supporter of the occupation, and operates strictly within the confines of foreign exploitation. These are matters which I will question him on the next time we meet. Until then, El Saher remains to be a permanent fixture in my play list, and is an artist that has contributed greatly to the evolvement of Iraqi and Arabic music. I would like to thank him for his time, honesty, and assistance in making my radio piece a success.